Showing posts with label Wrought of Silver and Ravens. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Wrought of Silver and Ravens. Show all posts

Tuesday, October 26, 2021

Story Snippet: Wrought of Serpent and Snow (Lizzie)

I've very excited to share a scene from my seventh novel, Wrought of Serpent and Snow (Of Made Magic book 2) for this week's Story Snippet. WoSaS is the sequel to Wrought of Silver and Ravens, a high fantasy Twelve Dancing Princesses retelling.



In this scene, Athdar and his friends Galen (the captain of the Silver Guard and his mentor/father figure), Bane, Murray, and Katib (a new character), have snuck into a bewitched castle to grab a few maps. In the previous book, the villainous Prince Cerav of Rusceon had the princesses of Giliosthay create a magic-wrought glass model of their castle, giving him a certain amount of power over it. They royal family was forced to abandon the castle, but our hero and his friends need to recover a few items from it. Their hopes of not being discovered don't go so well.

The walls around them were fast losing their color. From the corners toward them, the hallway was turning to glass.

“Galen!” Athdar cried.

“Jump on! Quick!” Galen dropped the thin boards in front of their feet with an urgent command Athdar didn’t recognize. The boards ceased their fall to hover a handspan above the floor. Galen jumped on the one nearest him and balanced on it.

Not quite sure how they were going to get anywhere on floating boards, Athdar leapt onto his and nearly tumbled off as the board shifted forward.

“Not like that!” Galen yanked him back on, and, together, they wrestled the board until Athdar stood steady. Murray rocked on his but managed to stay on. 

Galen released Athdar, checked on Murray with a curt nod, then jerked his chin down the colorless hallway. “Let’s go.”

Murray stared dumbly at him. “How? And I can see the room below us!” The floor was now completely transparent.

“Magic, of course. Do not step off these things unless you want to become a statue.”

“But we don’t have much mag—” magic stored. Athdar’s protest ended with an “oomph” as Galen sent a large, brightly colored globe of magic barreling into him, then another into Murray. He flew forward, and they cried out as the boards shot forward likewise, following him. He snagged them both by the arm, steadying them. 

“Hold on to my cloak for now,” he shouted over a rush of air as they moved through the hallway. “But don’t expect to have that help when you get to this stage in your training officially.”

Nodding because he didn’t have a voice currently, Athdar grabbed a handful of Galen’s silver-lined cloak. The two riderless boards flew ahead of them at the pace of a diving raven. The sense of glass chased them as walls blurred past.

“How do we steer?” Murray asked as Galen let them go now that they had a hold on him. 

“You don’t—I do. You just stay on!”

Piqued by the challenge in Galen’s tone, Athdar eased himself out of his timid crouch.

“Bane!” Galen cried. “Where are you?”

“This way! Hurry!” cried a rough voice from the leftward hallway ahead.

“We’re coming!” Galen steered them that way, but something in Athdar shuddered at the voice. They were going away from the library, toward one of the chambers designed to be sealed off in case the castle was breached.

“Hurry!” Bane cried as they neared the thick-walled doorway.

There was no sense of enchanters that way. Magic, but not enchanters.

“No! That’s not them!” Athdar and Murray both cried as Athdar jerked on Galen’s cloak. 

The sense of something slammed into him, pressing against his chest and waving through his short hair like water. He tried to cry out, but found he couldn’t breathe. They were going to drown dry.

As Athdar’s chest burned and begged for air, the boards spun around and raced back the way they’d come. Galen threw out one arm in front of him and jerked it back toward his body. A stream of rolling light shot from the room beyond to them, splitting into three shield-sized, wavering bubbles before enveloping each of them.

“Breathe! And warn me earlier next time!” Galen’s order had the garbled sound of words heard underwater, but Athdar didn’t need them repeated to obey.

A tail stretched from each of the bubbles to wherever Galen had called the air, and they followed those as Athdar stretched his senses for Bane. He was above and beyond them, descending fast.

“Bane will be at the stairs!” he cried, gesturing toward that particular stairway.

Galen shifted their direction. The pressure on Athdar’s chest eased, and the bubble of air popped. His breath of relief was cut short by the sight of the city through the glass wall ahead. He got the feeling getting out of the castle would not be as easy as simply floating to a door. He’d have to figure out how to handle the board so he’d have both hands free for whatever was coming next.

“Bane!” Galen roared as he slowed them to a halt at the intersection of hallways nearest the stairs. He gave Athdar a sideways glance as Athdar tightened his grip on Galen’s cloak to test out the board’s movements with his own motions. It responded to his movements more predictably than he’d anticipated. He smiled smugly. He could get the hang of this. Eventually. 

“Bane!” Galen roared again.

“Coming!” came an annoyed reply.

Bane and Katib surged around the corner and sprinted toward them, glass chasing them. Bane, a bulging satchel slung across his chest, ran with his palm extended out before him. The floor shimmered in a long rectangle under and in front of him and Katib. A smaller shimmer often overlaid it at Katib’s feet. Bane was literally shielding them from the glass curse trying to catch them. 

“Turn around and don’t stop moving!” Bane shouted before glancing at Katib. “Your shields are decent, kid, but do not give out.”

The boy was breathing heavily and his eyes were a bit wide, but he nodded and kept pace with Bane. 

Then he yelped as something transparent, fluid, and fast leapt from the wall in front of him and solidified. 

“Or lose focus!” Bane shoved Katib back as he sent a blaze of blue magic at a leaping, snarling piece of glass that resembled a—

“Did a glass fox just burst out of the wall?” Murray shrieked as the creature’s well-toothed mouth melted and streamed down to the floor. Its body, streaked with fiery yellows and reds, followed, disappearing into the transparent floor. 

“Jackal,” Galen said, his voice unusually tense. “They have jackals in Rusceon.”

“That’s a really demanding spell,” Bane said between pants as he jumped on one of the two free boards and helped Katib onto the last one. “We might need a better solution.”

To Athdar’s satisfaction, even Bane grunted and swayed as they shot down the hallway again. 

A tremor of magic passed through the castle, and Athdar’s heart sank. Cerav had enchanters helping him.

But that also meant the enchanters had to be touching the glass model to control it.

“How about an exit?” Murray cried as five more glass jackals were birthed from the wall ahead of them. Teeth bared, the jackals jumped to the floor and crouched to spring. 

“Grab the magic and push it back, Murray!” Athdar yelled as Bane shouted a warning of more creatures behind them.

Athdar swept around Galen as the enchanter melted one jackal and slammed a magical shield into another, sending it back but not destroying it. Athdar knelt, Murray doing the same. Calling a protective magic from the rings against his chest into his hands, Athdar trailed his fingers carefully over the glass floor, catching the sense of magic fueling the jackals. He snapped it and shoved stored magic and a sleeping spell into the retreating tail, back at Cerav’s enchanters. 

The remaining jackals vanished.

“That works too,” Galen said approvingly as he caught Athdar’s arm and helped him stand.

“I don’t think it will work twice,” Athdar said. Cerav was a half-magic, and now he knew another half-magic was here. He could also remove the sleep spell from his enchanters.

Straining to keep his sense of magic alert as well as his normal instincts active—and keep his footing on a floating board—Athdar watched the walls regain their color around them. 

“There’s still a sense of glass. Don’t be fooled,” he warned, but he needn’t have bothered. Galen kept them soaring down one passageway to the next, some Athdar didn’t remember connecting quite the way they did now. 

After the fifth turn, Athdar got a sinking sensation they weren’t truly going anywhere. Having a model of the castle, Cerav would know if Galen were directing them toward an exit. Apparently, he could shift the rooms.

Someone drew breath to speak, and Galen said hastily, “I don’t know about you, but I could use a drink.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Bane replied, his breathing heavier than Athdar liked. Galen and Bane were powerful, Katib strong, but none were inexhaustible. Galen and Bane weren’t exactly young either.

Out of the corner of his eye, Athdar saw Murray start, a look of disappointment in his expression. But none of the Silver Guard were like Murray’s uncle, seeking escape in a bottle, giving it control over him and freeing the evil inside him.

They might be seeking escape where bottles were stored though. The anchor to the Realm of Coryruso was hidden in the wine cellar, which, as he sought out in his mind the map of the castle Galen had made him memorize, lay not far ahead but quite a ways down. If no one realized their path and shifted the rooms. As he considered the fastest way down to the cellar, he got a bad feeling the levitation spell Galen was using on the boards did not work for flying.

“Did you bring those pebbles of yours?” Galen whispered. 

Like his parents’ rings, Athdar never left the ravenstone behind. “Yes—”

“Balcony ahead,” Katib said hopefully as a soft sense of magic rose in front of them.

“These don’t fly,” Galen said meaningfully as they approached an outer wall. It opened to a balcony and a view of the city that had never been there before, or sensed of magic before.

“And that’s no exit,” Murray retorted. “Does Prince Cerav think us stupid?”

Athdar doubted that, which meant the magic of the mirage was a distraction.

“I don’t know, but if any of you three want to scream like a girl,” Bane rasped, “there’s an open window behind that mirage. The whole city outside could probably—”

As if freed by that odd permission, Athdar cried out and Murray screamed as the room shifted to glass and a dozen rows of jackal heads, maws open, popped up through the floor in front of them. Athdar jumped, his board skimming a jackal as one clamped down on Murray’s board. Murray flew forward as his board jammed into the glass jaw. 

“Murray!” Athdar shunted what magic he had left into a spiked shield before his and Galen’s feet, shattering the growing group of waiting jackals as Galen yanked Murray from his fall and thrust him back to Bane.

An unearthly note, one too high for Athdar to imagine any male making—even a seventeen-year-old—screeched out behind and to his left, magic mingling with it. The thin tip of an ear chipped off the jackal head at his feet. A tooth may have cracked on another.

A blaze of magic from Bane and Galen hit the jackals but only melted their mouths shut. 

“Pebbles! Now!” Galen clamped a hand on Athdar’s shoulder, pushing magic into him as Athdar pulled out the seven ravenstones from his pouch and threw them at the glass floor. 

Eitilt go tapa, eitilt fíor! Fly swift, fly true!”

The stones spread out, two to each side and a spine of three, as a shimmer of feathers darkened the air.

Glass shattered, and Galen threw down a shield as an ethereal raven burst through the floor, a shard of glass in its beak. Athdar’s stomach tightened as they plummeted after it, his cloak flying up around him, the board falling away to who knew where. 

The glass in the raven’s beak touched the solid floor beneath. The stone faded into glass and burst, and they followed the raven through, toward a darkened cellar. Galen released Athdar, and the raven faded, shrinking slowly so that Athdar caught all seven stones as he passed.

A rack of wine casks loomed beneath them.

“Got it!” Bane yelled. 

Feeling suddenly light, Athdar’s descent was slowed and diverted as a blunt-ended, spiked shield of magic hit him, pushing him away from the racks, toward the open area by the storage closet door. Their broken boards lay beside it on a floor quickly vanishing into glass.

“Grab hold!” Bane ordered. 

Wrapping an arm around a shield spike, Athdar obeyed, and from Bane’s grunt, he guessed everyone else did as well. The shields lowered them slowly.

The storage closet door opened at a word from Galen, and they threw themselves inside. Athdar felt again the familiar yet odd sense of magic as they entered the Realm of Coryruso. They dropped to the floor as the shields disappeared.


If you enjoyed the snippet, Wrought of Serpent and Snow is available for pre-order and releases December 9. With friendship, adventure, found family, and romance, it's fun, clean read. If you haven't read book 1, Wrought of Silver and Ravens is available here.

Wednesday, June 17, 2020

Six New Twelve Dancing Princesses Retellings and Their Lovely Covers (Lizzie)

I'm excited to be part of a group of authors (with Kendra E. Ardnek, Abigail Falanga, Sarah Pennington, Tricia Mingerink, and Wyn Estelle Owens) each writing a retelling of The Twelve Dancing Princesses. It's one of my favorite fairytales. The stories sound great, and I'm looking forward to their release in late August! We had a cover reveal party on Facebook last night, but I wanted to share the covers and a tagline for each here. Check it out if you're looking for a new author or fresh take on the beloved tale.



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Aren't the covers lovely? What's your favorite Twelve Dancing Princesses story, if you have one? Interested in any of these?

Tuesday, June 9, 2020

Wrought of Silver and Ravens: A Twelve Dancing Princesses Retelling Story Snippet (Lizzie)

Ever since reading an illustrated children's book of "The Twelve Dancing Princesses," I have loved the story. I've read a few retellings (my favorite being The Firethorn Crown by Lea Doue), but I must admit a preference for that beautiful children's book, which unlike most retellings, focuses on the soldier with the invisibility cloak who frees the princesses rather than on the princesses themselves. This winter I had an unexpected idea for a retelling of the story set in my Magic Collectors world. Only this tale is set in the ancient past, in the incomparable land of walled cities of white stone perched on cliffs above deep blue seas, where sandals rather slippers are worn, where soldiers and not just princesses are respected. Into this beautiful, dangerous land comes a hunted young wanderer, a man of secrets, who gets more than he bargains for when rescues a prince, not the least of which is the responsibility of guarding the prince's seven cursed sisters.


Wrought of Silver and Ravens releases August 25, 2020. This is the rough draft of part of chapter 1 and chapter 2. I hope you enjoy it!

Panoramic view of Dubrovnik

Wrought of Silver and Ravens

Chapter 1a


It wasn’t quite cold enough to kill a man. Nor was it wet enough. Athdar Owain Leonidas swiped his hand on his shirt, in the little area his cloak had kept reasonably dry, then touched two fingers to the unconscious man’s throat. Or boy’s, depending on how they gauged maturity in this land. Though wearing a soldier’s garb, and some marks of status, his face gave the appearance of one just short of manhood, about seventeen or so. Boy, then. Soldier.
Enchanter.
Athdar’s fingers warmed quickly with magic, yet rose only slightly with a pulse. He straightened as much as the cave would let him and backed away from the enchanter, savoring the warmth of magic in his hands despite a twinge of guilt.
Water dripped from his hair onto his forehead, and he pushed his hair aside, shivering, and considered the unconscious boy again.
Cold and wet. Together they might be enough. Especially with his wounds.
The question was, did Athdar care enough to do something about it? It would keep him in these ruthless borderlands longer than he wanted, and he still had his llewod gwerthfawr to care for.
But he soon found his feet carrying him out of the cave into the misting rain and along the cliff side in search of limbs for a fire. He guessed he did care, or at least knew he should. Despite the fact that the boy was an enchanter, and no good ever came from them, not for Athdar’s kind.
A half hour later, just before the sun would disappear over the mountain peaks, Athdar squatted beside a pile of wet limbs in the cave. There were few specimens Athdar would classify as trees in this land of rocks and scraggly shrubs, but he picked up a glorified twig from the pile and braced it upright between his knees.
“You’re going to have to warm us both, you know.”
The enchanter-soldier-boy had started moaning, so Athdar didn’t feel as bad talking to him. And he spoke in the common tongue. The few traders who’d ventured out from his homeland and returned had striven to teach them all they could before the Leaving. He’d picked up more in the few years since his clan’s departure. “I ran out of magic a ways back. And everything’s wet here.”
He wrapped his left hand around the boy’s and cupped his right around the tip of the twig. When his left hand warmed with magic, drawn from the enchanter, he snapped the fingers of his right. The tip of the twig burst with a orange and yellow flame. There was something else in the warmth of the magic—a spell. Perhaps many. With a hiss, Athdar dropped the enchanter’s hand.
Could an unconscious enchanter bespell him? Or was the enchanter himself bespelled? How did spells work on one of Athdar’s kind? Or did it depend on the spell?
But now was not the time for that, whether the enchanter was the bespeller or the bespelled.
Athdar touched his finger to the base of the magical fire, then ran it along the length of the limb, dragging the fire with him. He tossed the blazing limb on the pile and repeated the process until he’d built a respectable fire.
When the enchanter moaned, Athdar twisted around to feel the boy’s face and hands. He could sense magic under the enchanter’s skin but pushed it away instead of calling it. Rather, he focused on his skin’s warmth. The boy had a fever, yet also a chill to his skin. The fire would fix the latter. The herbs Athdar’s mother had shoved into his pack before they were separated might fix the former.
Using a hand on the cave ceiling to gauge how much he could straighten, he picked up a limb to use as a torch and shuffled farther into the low cave. A crevice in the tunnel wall created a nook hidden from the main chamber.
Mewl. Mewl.
A smile twisted Athdar’s lips. Not that the nook would stay hidden for long if anyone used their ears rather than their eyes.
Athdar knelt before two wooden crates. Four sets of golden eyes gleamed up at him. Four pink tongues, rough as only felines’ are, and half as many clawed paws, sought out his fingers. Remembering his patient, Athdar drew his hand back in time to avoid their lick-and-bite greetings. After picking up his pack, he returned to the main chamber.
Working in the dim firelight, he made a poultice from several herbs, then cleaned and rebound the enchanter’s wounds. As he tied off the bandages, his gaze skimmed the unconscious boy. Knife wounds, rope burns, possibly a broken rib. That was only the wounds he could see.
What was he going to do with an injured enchanter? He couldn’t take him into a village and leave him. He didn’t know if he could trust the villagers. They’d likely take care of the boy as one of their own, and a person of status, but Athdar? As a foreigner, they’d tell anyone who asked that they’d seen him.
He touched the boy’s forehead again. Warm with fever. He could feel the warmth of magic ready to answer his summons, but he had no justification for taking it now. Why hadn’t the boy used magic to defend himself?
Would what magic wounds look like on an enchanter or sorcerer? Would they be visible to the eye?
Athdar stilled, memories threatening to crowd into his mind, then shoved the few remaining bandages into the pack and hurried back to the crevice.
Meeeeowl.
“Was that a question, Cumi? You want to know what’s for dinner?” Athdar used the torch to find the two hares he’d snared earlier and not been able to dress yet. “I think you know. You’ve smelled them all evening. Well, come on then. Dinner is served.” He slid the crates’ gates up and backed away as the four llewod gwerthfawr cubs tumbled out. Luath made a leap for the hares in Athdar’s left hand, which he quickly raised out of the way. Dana and Lytse collided on their wobbly legs and toppled over. Coming out last, Cumi stretched, rubbed his boot, then batted at the hares.
“Come on then.” Nodding toward the main chamber, Athdar shuffled back to it, careful not to step on the paws batting at his feet. Cumi let out a meowl as she entered the chamber, her golden eyes fixed on both the fire and the enchanter beyond it. “Good girl, but they’re not for you.” He snatched her up by the scruff as she tried to dart past him. “No, Cumi.”
Settling on the cold rock floor on the other side of the fire from the enchanter, Athdar released Cumi, then tossed the hares to the cubs. Scooting closer to the fire, he held out his hands to warm them, then picked up another limb and called to the magic he’d used to light it. The fire vanished, and Athdar gripped the charcoaled stick like a large pencil and began to draw on the cave floor. Three ravens, wings spread in flight, took shape, slowly, as he glanced up often check on the cubs. Finished with their dinner, Luath and Lytse wrestled with each other. Cumi and Dana had their heads down and rumps up, eyes on the enchanter.
He tossed the stick back into the fire and leaned forward to grab Cumi and Dana. He sat them in front of him, the ravens between them. “Leave him alone, you two. He doesn’t want to play. And I don’t know how his magic would affect you. It’s time to see how much you remember from your training.”
He whistled three short notes, and the cubs lined up across from him and laid down. He passed his hand quickly over the drawings, charcoal smearing onto his fingers as he lightly touched them.
“All right, Miss Lytse, which of these has the enchantment?”
Lytse, petite and cautious, stepped lightly forward, sniffed the first raven, then the second, and sat behind the second. “Good girl.” He rubbed her head, giving her a touch of magic, just enough to make her fur glimmer. She shook her fur out, sending a sparkle of golden light into the chamber, and pranced back to her place. Athdar passed his hand over the ravens again and called Dana, who mimicked his sister. Luath didn’t bother sniffing. He simply sat on the third raven and wouldn’t get up until Athdar shoved him aside in a playful tumble.
As Cumi pranced up to the ravens, Athdar’s lips curved at the corners. She sniffed the first, the second, and finally the third raven, then looked up at him, head cocked. He shrugged. She sniffed each raven back up to the first, then looked up at him again. He stared bank at her expectantly.
Her rump started to slowly lower behind the first raven, her gaze staying on him. Athdar raised an eyebrow at her. She stilled, then growled at him. Chuckling, Athdar gave her a quick scratch behind the ear, then passed his hand over the drawings again. Cumi sniffed them all, glancing up at him from the second one. When he didn’t respond, she moved to the third, and looked between it, the second, and him. One corner of Athdar’s mouth curled up. With a flick of her tail, Cumi turned lengthwise and flopped down to cover both the second and third ravens. Laughing, Athdar picked her up and put her in his lap. “Very good, Cumi. Looks like I can’t trick you, after all.”
He gave her a good belly rub as her siblings played with one another. With a short whistle, he called them back to attention, then laid his hand on the center raven. Whispering, he pulled his fisted hand up. With a deft twist of his wrist, he opened his hand. An ethereal raven darted into the air, swooping over the cubs’ heads. Cumi’s claws dug into Athdar’s legs as she twisted around and scrambled out of his lap to join the others in chasing the illusion.
He watched until they tired, then cleaned up their crates and dinner, and put them to bed. After digging through another pack for his own dinner, he returned to the main chamber, ate a few crackers and some cheese, gave the boy a drink of water, and settled down against the cave wall, grateful for the fire’s warmth on the damp, cool night.
Night … He could scout out a village to dump the enchanter in at night. Someone would take him in. Athdar need not show himself. But he didn’t want to leave cubs alone with the enchanter again. What if he woke? He could hurt them, or they him. Athdar could stay with the enchanter a couple of days, until he began to wake, then leave him some food and go his way. He’d done enough for the enchanter as it was.
Voices warred in his head. The priest proclaiming that all were their neighbors and should be treated as such, the common distrust and frequent hate among his people for both enchanters and sorcerers. The histories telling of the horrors they suffered in the Caffin Wars because of “good” enchanters and evil sorcerers both. They were the reasons his kind had been sent into hiding at the end of the Caffin Wars. Time was forcing the half-magics back into the world, but there were no great heroes to save them now. Only common men and women who would seek to control them and profit by them.
Even magic, like a gold band, wears thin over time, Athdar, his grandfather had told him as his home disappeared behind him. A city walled with magic cannot stay hidden forever. We must leave, clan by clan, before the walls vanish. Now is the time for us to return to the land of men and magic and vanish among its peoples. But we will be no one’s slave this time. No one’s living wand or disposable weapon. No enchanter will know our power, no sorcerer enslave us.

Chapter 2


Eight years ago, beneath the castle fortress of Doromou, Kingdom of Giliosthay

It wasn’t a dream world. Or a real one. Was it possible to be somewhere in between? Ten-year-old Princess Thea raised her candle above her head. But its light revealed no walls or ceiling in the room that felt entirely too big for the space Thea knew it belonged to—a storage closet in the wine cellar.
The floor, a polished marble, was gritty with dust that slipped into her sandals. It suggested that this was a real place, as did the fact that she didn’t readily fall asleep while standing. “Mother?”
“Yes, dear?” Queen Thalassa stood a few feet away, watching her.
“Where are we? It feels too … big.” And not perfectly square or rectangular, or even one-storied. Though how she knew the space had three stories and an extension on one end like a chancel in a church was beyond her.
“What are your senses telling you, Thea?” She detected a faint smile in her mother’s voice. While that pleased her, she would have preferred an explanation, and a row of candles on the walls.
But her mother was a strict teacher. So Thea stilled her thoughts and focused on what her senses were telling her, especially on that peculiar one that made her shoulders hunch because it told her the walls and floor above were wavering and unsteady. “It’s a three-storied building with a porch on one end. It’s not stable.” She caught her mother’s broad waistband, wide and golden, and tugged gently, not caring if she were too old for clinging to skirts. “We should go.”
Her mother only answered with a laugh and a flash of light from her palm.
Chandeliers hanging around the room and sconces on walls flared to a comfortable brilliance, and the wavering feeling ceased. The place was sturdy now, like a bag filled tightly with water. Thea cocked her head at her enchantress mother.
Draping one arm around Thea’s shoulders, her mother pulled her close and gestured to the anomaly around them, a place built of magic. “Welcome to the Realm of Coryrosu, Thea, Realm Walker of Coryrosu. It’s time to begin your lessons.”

Have you ever read and illustrated version of The Twelve Dancing Princesses? What is your favorite retelling, if you are familiar with the story?